Watch for your opportunity, my instructor’s voice says.
The barrel of a rifle slides inside my tent. I gasp and scramble backward, but can’t tear my gaze from the muzzle aimed at my chest.
The gun is military issue. Semiautomatic. The same general type carried by the soldiers at Tayrona. There’s no move in my self-defense repertoire that can be executed faster than a bullet leaves the barrel of a gun.
A face appears in the opening. Dark eyes glance around my one-person tent, taking in my air mattress and supplies. Below the face is a torso wearing jungle camo.
“¡Salga! Bring your passport and your cell phone.”
My hands shake as I grab my passport and my cell phone on the way out. Pen is standing in front of her tent a few feet away. She holds her hands up at head height, one clutching her own passport, the other her cell phone. Down the row of tents to my right, more hikers stand in the same position. They all look terrified.
The man with the rifle turns to unzip the tent across from mine, and through the opening, I see Holden still asleep facedown on his sleeping bag. After a binge, Holden could sleep through the Apocalypse.
“¡Levántate!” the soldier orders. When he gets no response, he kicks Holden’s foot.
Holden mumbles an obscenity as he rolls onto his side, his eyes still tightly closed. “People are trying to sleep.”
The soldier aims his rifle at my boyfriend’s head, and my airway tries to close. “Get up!” he shouts, and Penelope flinches.
Holden’s eyes open. He blinks, his forehead furrowed in anger, and I can tell the instant reality comes into focus for him, because his eyes widen and his jaw snaps shut. He’s never been on the wrong end of a rifle.
“Come out with your phone and your passport.”
Holden stumbles out of his tent on bare feet, clutching his phone and a well-worn passport. His stunned gaze finds me, and his eyes narrow. “What the hell did you do?”
I frown at him. What did I . . . ?
“Am I under arrest?” he demands. “I have the right to a lawyer!”
Holden thinks I’ve hired these soldiers to pay him back for sleeping with Penelope.
“Shut up!” I tilt my head toward the campers lined up on my right. His mouth snaps shut. Blood drains from his face when he realizes we’re all being held at gunpoint. But something else has caught my attention.
None of the soldiers’ camo matches. They aren’t carrying standard issue canteens or sleep rolls, and they’re armed with three different rifles.
Terror blazes a path up my spine.
These are not soldiers. We are not under arrest.
We’ve been taken hostage.
MADDIE
Penelope’s scream echoes through the jungle, raising chill bumps on my arms. Ryan’s eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “Wait here.” He starts to take off toward the camp, then spins to face me again. “I changed my mind. Stick close and be quiet.”
“She probably just saw a spider,” I whisper as we tiptoe over roots and fallen branches. But neither of us believes me.
“¡No se mueva!” another voice shouts from the direction of the bunkhouse, and I realize I’m breathing too fast.
“Ryan,” I whisper, but the word hardly carries any sound. He reaches back for my hand, and I slide my palm into his grip. We stand frozen, listening to the rush of our own pulses in a jungle that has gone strangely quiet.
“¡No se mueva!” the voice repeats, and I jump when a burst of gunfire punctuates the order.
Ryan squeezes my hand. I suck in a breath and hold it as a wave of panic washes over me.
“¡Pónganse en fila!” that voice shouts again, ordering people to form a line.
“Ryan!” I whisper, my voice shaky with fear. “What’s happening?”
“Stay here,” he says, but I can barely hear him. “Hunch down behind that bush and don’t come out unless I call for you. Okay? And watch out for snakes.”
“What are you doing?” I demand as quietly as I can.
“Recon.” His eyes hold a reckless determination. “I need to see what’s happening.”
“No!” I clutch his hand, but he pulls it from my grip and points to the clump of brush again. “Don’t leave!” Then he quietly pushes toward camp.
My focus flicks from tree to tree, shadow to shadow as fear fuels my racing heartbeat. Careful not to step on anything loud, I drop into a squat behind the brush, then nearly scream when a lizard scurries over my hand.
Alone, I can only listen and wait, terrified.
“¡Vete de la carpa!” another voice barks, ordering someone to come out of a tent. Another burst of gunfire makes me flinch. More people scream.
Was my brother one of them? Was my cousin?
I stand, terrified of going closer to the gunfire, but even more terrified of not knowing. A twig snaps behind me. I gasp and whirl around.
A man in green fatigues aims a rifle at my face.
GENESIS
Are they going to kill us? Penelope mouths to me from a few feet away, where she’s still standing in front of her tent. I shake my head. If these men wanted us dead, they could have shot us in our sleep.
My thoughts race as I evaluate our situation, running through the threat assessment steps from the survival class my father made me take two years ago.
Assets: my fellow campers.
Liabilities: my fellow campers.
As far as I know, none of my friends have had a single self-defense course, and Holden’s the only other one who’s ever fired a gun—a hunting rifle.
Thanks to my paranoid father, I know how to handle myself one-on-one—or even one-on-three—but there are nearly a dozen armed gunmen.
Nico and the other guides can get us back to civilization, if we can escape, but Maddie—
Maddie and Ryan aren’t standing in front of their tents. Neither are Luke and at least two of the bros. Maddie probably chased a rabbit into the jungle to make sure it wasn’t being exploited as a native resident, but the guys could be anywhere.
“¡Pónganse en fila!” one of the armed men shouts, waving his rifle at an open area between the outdoor showers and the tent village. Scared campers begin to form a rough line, and Holden, Pen, and I file in with them.
Holden reaches for my hand as we walk, but one of the men in camo uses the barrel of a rifle to shove him away from me. He stumbles and curses, then scowls as he slides his hand into his pocket.
The barrel of a rifle slides inside my tent. I gasp and scramble backward, but can’t tear my gaze from the muzzle aimed at my chest.
The gun is military issue. Semiautomatic. The same general type carried by the soldiers at Tayrona. There’s no move in my self-defense repertoire that can be executed faster than a bullet leaves the barrel of a gun.
A face appears in the opening. Dark eyes glance around my one-person tent, taking in my air mattress and supplies. Below the face is a torso wearing jungle camo.
“¡Salga! Bring your passport and your cell phone.”
My hands shake as I grab my passport and my cell phone on the way out. Pen is standing in front of her tent a few feet away. She holds her hands up at head height, one clutching her own passport, the other her cell phone. Down the row of tents to my right, more hikers stand in the same position. They all look terrified.
The man with the rifle turns to unzip the tent across from mine, and through the opening, I see Holden still asleep facedown on his sleeping bag. After a binge, Holden could sleep through the Apocalypse.
“¡Levántate!” the soldier orders. When he gets no response, he kicks Holden’s foot.
Holden mumbles an obscenity as he rolls onto his side, his eyes still tightly closed. “People are trying to sleep.”
The soldier aims his rifle at my boyfriend’s head, and my airway tries to close. “Get up!” he shouts, and Penelope flinches.
Holden’s eyes open. He blinks, his forehead furrowed in anger, and I can tell the instant reality comes into focus for him, because his eyes widen and his jaw snaps shut. He’s never been on the wrong end of a rifle.
“Come out with your phone and your passport.”
Holden stumbles out of his tent on bare feet, clutching his phone and a well-worn passport. His stunned gaze finds me, and his eyes narrow. “What the hell did you do?”
I frown at him. What did I . . . ?
“Am I under arrest?” he demands. “I have the right to a lawyer!”
Holden thinks I’ve hired these soldiers to pay him back for sleeping with Penelope.
“Shut up!” I tilt my head toward the campers lined up on my right. His mouth snaps shut. Blood drains from his face when he realizes we’re all being held at gunpoint. But something else has caught my attention.
None of the soldiers’ camo matches. They aren’t carrying standard issue canteens or sleep rolls, and they’re armed with three different rifles.
Terror blazes a path up my spine.
These are not soldiers. We are not under arrest.
We’ve been taken hostage.
MADDIE
Penelope’s scream echoes through the jungle, raising chill bumps on my arms. Ryan’s eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “Wait here.” He starts to take off toward the camp, then spins to face me again. “I changed my mind. Stick close and be quiet.”
“She probably just saw a spider,” I whisper as we tiptoe over roots and fallen branches. But neither of us believes me.
“¡No se mueva!” another voice shouts from the direction of the bunkhouse, and I realize I’m breathing too fast.
“Ryan,” I whisper, but the word hardly carries any sound. He reaches back for my hand, and I slide my palm into his grip. We stand frozen, listening to the rush of our own pulses in a jungle that has gone strangely quiet.
“¡No se mueva!” the voice repeats, and I jump when a burst of gunfire punctuates the order.
Ryan squeezes my hand. I suck in a breath and hold it as a wave of panic washes over me.
“¡Pónganse en fila!” that voice shouts again, ordering people to form a line.
“Ryan!” I whisper, my voice shaky with fear. “What’s happening?”
“Stay here,” he says, but I can barely hear him. “Hunch down behind that bush and don’t come out unless I call for you. Okay? And watch out for snakes.”
“What are you doing?” I demand as quietly as I can.
“Recon.” His eyes hold a reckless determination. “I need to see what’s happening.”
“No!” I clutch his hand, but he pulls it from my grip and points to the clump of brush again. “Don’t leave!” Then he quietly pushes toward camp.
My focus flicks from tree to tree, shadow to shadow as fear fuels my racing heartbeat. Careful not to step on anything loud, I drop into a squat behind the brush, then nearly scream when a lizard scurries over my hand.
Alone, I can only listen and wait, terrified.
“¡Vete de la carpa!” another voice barks, ordering someone to come out of a tent. Another burst of gunfire makes me flinch. More people scream.
Was my brother one of them? Was my cousin?
I stand, terrified of going closer to the gunfire, but even more terrified of not knowing. A twig snaps behind me. I gasp and whirl around.
A man in green fatigues aims a rifle at my face.
GENESIS
Are they going to kill us? Penelope mouths to me from a few feet away, where she’s still standing in front of her tent. I shake my head. If these men wanted us dead, they could have shot us in our sleep.
My thoughts race as I evaluate our situation, running through the threat assessment steps from the survival class my father made me take two years ago.
Assets: my fellow campers.
Liabilities: my fellow campers.
As far as I know, none of my friends have had a single self-defense course, and Holden’s the only other one who’s ever fired a gun—a hunting rifle.
Thanks to my paranoid father, I know how to handle myself one-on-one—or even one-on-three—but there are nearly a dozen armed gunmen.
Nico and the other guides can get us back to civilization, if we can escape, but Maddie—
Maddie and Ryan aren’t standing in front of their tents. Neither are Luke and at least two of the bros. Maddie probably chased a rabbit into the jungle to make sure it wasn’t being exploited as a native resident, but the guys could be anywhere.
“¡Pónganse en fila!” one of the armed men shouts, waving his rifle at an open area between the outdoor showers and the tent village. Scared campers begin to form a rough line, and Holden, Pen, and I file in with them.
Holden reaches for my hand as we walk, but one of the men in camo uses the barrel of a rifle to shove him away from me. He stumbles and curses, then scowls as he slides his hand into his pocket.
